Searing Truth
by Imperator Justinian
Summary: Sometimes, the truth does not care. AU, gift-fic for Ten-Faced.


People are easily swayed - that is something Hilbert comes to understand during his travels.

It is a lesson he does not want to learn at first; the young, inexperienced trainer, with stars in his eyes and a head full of sweet dreams, truly wants to think the best of everyone. But as he goes from town to town, collecting Gym Badges, gaining new friends, and encountering Team Plasma and all their rhetoric at every step, he finds that he is a blank slate upon which reality intends to carve its teachings upon.

 _"Oh well,"_ the young trainer from Nuvema thinks; all he has to do is beat back those over-glorified clowns enough times - prove their ideals and rhetoric would only carry them so far, and force them to take a good look at themselves - and people will begin to wake up. People are reasonable, after all, and it was already beginning to work with N.

* * *

The final battle with Team Plasma is drawing near. He can see it in the unfaltering eyes of Alder, the optimistic stance of Bianca, and the wizened gazes of Lenora, Cedric and the Professor as he walks away from the Nacrene Museum. He notices it in how tense, almost eager, Ghetsis is as he paces back and forth in front of him at the Tubeline Bridge, and how his mask begins to slip and he gets a glimpse of the truth before the sage retreats. He hears it in Drayden's voice as he hands him his final badge. He detects it in the atmosphere as he traverses Route 10, his mind racing back over all the events that had built up to this point, the details flashing across his vision. He can feel it in his marrow, crying out for him to end this and bring the truth to light. And he can feel it reverberating in the Light Stone.

And as he comes to a stop at the base of the Pokémon League, Hilbert, no longer the inexperienced trainer he was, looks down at the sleeping legend cradled gently, reverently, in his hands, and silently vows that he would prove himself worthy of it.

* * *

Officially, Team Plasma was nothing more than a fringe political movement that had surged in recent months, and just so happened to have a disavowed vigilante wing working for their goals across the region. The rule of law had to be upheld, even if the true criminals would frequently outmaneuver it or turn it against the very people who enforced it. The League was powerless to act so long as Plasma, with all their political clout, lawsuits and thinly-veiled threats, hid behind the very law that was supposed to stop them.

But when their secret castle - and Hilbert wonders how on earth the League could be so aloof, or afraid, as to not notice the giant castle stretching around their sanctuary, just like a noose slowly being tied around their necks, until it was too late - rose out of the earth and grunts began storming the building, it finally gave the League carte blanche to act. While it was technically treason for the Gym Leaders to storm Team Plasma's castle, seeing as how Plasma had pulled off a supposedly 'bloodless', if not technically legal, coup, circumstances overrode any hesitation they might have had.

Then again, the law could have never been prepared for something like this.

As he walks through the castle's ornate halls uninterrupted, grunts standing off to the sides and as unmoving and lifeless as the statues and banners that adorned the walls, he feels that same pressure creeping up on him, spurning him into the throne room. N greets him as he enters, his green eyes looking down on him from his throne like he is looking at a curiosity, and disappointment runs across his face when Reshiram fails to appear. But it is when the dragon's ancient counterpart crashes into the throne room in a shower of sparks that Hilbert feels the light stone react, and like a beating heart begins pulsing with holy flames, singeing his hands and forcing him to let go of the orb. Rather than clatter to the ground and shatter into a thousand pieces, being dashed like his hopes not seconds before, the Light Stone floats higher, unfurling itself in a scorching inferno that miraculously left him untouched even as the rest of the room was seared. And in that wall of flames and blinding white that nearly engulfed the room, Hilbert sees two blue orbs snap open, gazing out on the world before spreading out before it and seeing everything.

N looks on in awe as Reshiram descends, like a child seeing snow for the first time, enraptured in a wonderland that he had read about in storybooks, while Hilbert feels the dragon's presence seeping into his own, its thoughts echoing throughout his skull.

And the trainer from Nuvema is drawn to the dragon of truth, like it is a flickering beacon in the darkness, giving light to everything around it and dispelling the shadows covering the path ahead. Words are exchanged, and the battle begins moments later. Zekrom succumbs to the purifying flames after a fierce conflict, the holy fire burning through every hopeful burst of electricity the legend of ideals can send their way, and he watches as N begins to wonder what such could mean while he treats Zekrom's wounds.

But there would be no time to take satisfaction in his triumph, to let out his held in breath with the knowledge that Unova is spared Plasma's machinations, that the young king before him might see the truth. Ghetsis storms into the room, enraged, and when Hilbert turns to face him he sees what had always eluded him - everyone - before. And the sage no longer bothers hiding it behind platitudes and honeyed lies, and the whole truth, the ugly truth, is dragged into the light.

N was only a puppet; raised from youth as a pawn, fed nothing but manufactured lies and half-truths to instill naïve ideals in him that would win the recognition of Zekrom - and the heart of Unova. And Ghetsis, always there by his side, providing him with all the advice and assistance he could ever hope for, keeping his king's head in the clouds, would be there to ensure that Unova stayed within N's grasp - and under his thumb.

Hilbert feels a fire stirring within him, burning through his veins and slowly rising up. Ghetsis, overcome by his ambition, by his vision, summons his own Pokémon to finish what his son started. They too are embraced by the flames. Cheren and Alder arrive before any further conflict can happen, and though he should feel relief as they drag the monster away, he knows it's a mistake to let them. But N leads him up the stairs, towards the hole Zekrom created in its entrance, and tells him he needs to leave and think - and that ignites some hope within the new Champion once again as the king takes his leave.

* * *

Ghetsis escaped, as he knew he would. But Plasma is shattered, the truth is known, and Hilbert must turn his eyes to the region as a whole.

The new champion is lead into his new room by Alder - the reconstruction having been finished at a monumental pace - and he is immediately beset upon by the burdens of his new duties of fixing an entire region that had been on the brink of civil war only a few days ago. His new coworkers, likeable as they were, did little to help, even with Alder remaining behind to offer advice. The former champion was both a titan and a free spirit. He was not a politician or a bureaucrat, and could do little to help the boy maneuver through the jungle of official-looking papers, people, and their double-talk that beset him on all sides. Marshall trained too much, Shauntal wrote too much, Caitlin slept too much, and Grimsley could only do so much on his own.

Hilbert has his work cut out for him.

* * *

The Hero of Truth, as is the title bestowed upon the young Champion, is haunted by Ghetsis.

The man persists in the back of his mind, as he runs through the details of his final confrontation with N. In his dreams, as the sage spreads his web once more, and ensnares Unova once again. In police reports, as former Plasma members are arrested, still spouting their ideals like mindless drones. In his encounters with the triad that freed him, relaying Ghetsis' intentions to him through shadowy words before fading away.

Ghetsis is still out there, and Hilbert can no longer sleep knowing that he still plots his return. When he meets up with Bianca to ride the ferris wheel one day, she's shocked at his appearance; bags under his eyes, scraggly hair, unkempt clothes, and a lack of personal hygiene that makes him look more like a homeless man than the Champion of Unova. In her typical optimism, though, the aspiring researcher quickly hides away her shock - not that it could truly be hidden from his eyes, as he's become quite good at reading people like books as of late - and takes his hand with a smile that makes his heart flutter, leading him into the carriage.

"What's wrong, Hilbert?" the question was expected, but still shakes him. He breaks down, a sobbing mess, and chokes out the truth. She can only place a hand on his back, silently trying to comfort him as he groans out his supposed failures, how he couldn't catch Ghetsis, fix his region or protect it, how he can see the truth so plainly but can do so little to uphold it, how he is forced to watch it get violated on a daily basis. And all Bianca can do is sit quietly for a few minutes as they pass their zenith and descend, giving him a shoulder to cry on, until she makes the suggestion of trying to focus on one thing at a time - to not overextend himself and break under his burden. And all he can do is nod, like it's the most obvious thing in the world, and the young Champion knows that Plasma - that Ghetsis - comes first.

And the trio of orbs he received from the Shadow Triad are a good lead.

* * *

He leaves Alder in charge, knowing full well that he'll probably just delegate his post to someone else - but better that someone with more experience than him is there to ensure that the transfer at least runs smoothly - and heads off to Sinnoh.

If Plasma had any operations in Sinnoh, they are long gone and abandoned by the time he arrives and investigates. So he heads onto Johto, and when that fails to provide anything, onto Kanto. By the time he arrives in Hoenn with still no news or signs of Plasma, part of him wants to believe that Ghetsis had given up, that Plasma might not resurface. That Looker fellow had already arrested many of the Sages, after all, so maybe, just maybe, there was nothing to worry over, that it would be resolved and fade away into the past?

* * *

Of course, it was far too good to be true.

Hilbert's absence is practically a hand-written invitation for Ghetsis to make his move, and the absentee Champion rushes back to Unova like an inferno the moment he hears that Opelucid has been bombarded with ice. But he is too late when he returns, and Ghetsis is in the wind once more, while that bubbly girl with buns in her hair - and when he meets her for the first time he can barely restrain himself from asking who gets their hair done at a bakery - who proved herself worthy in the eyes of that lifeless husk, wears his mantle; watching over Unova.

He had failed his region once, and he would not do so again. Never again.

Their battle is fierce, and he remembers N. But the flames melt through ice, and Hilbert reassumes his position once more, and the burdens that come with it.

* * *

People are not reasonable, he comes to learn.

As more and more Neo-Plasma members are paraded through the courts, their statements ranging from everything between hollow platitudes to remorseless confessions that they knew exactly what they were doing, who they were following and what they were planning, he wonders why they could so willingly do so much damage, be so willfully ignorant as to not see the consequences of what they were doing. And as more and more corrupt officials are marshalled, many trying to downplaying their crimes ranging from accepting bribes to outright treason, he has to wonder how they could be so selfish, so blind, to worry about their purses and titles more than the oaths that came with them - and the truths behind them.

Hilbert resolves they must be made to see the truth.

* * *

But it does not stop with the corrupt; the entire region must come acknowledge it. Plasma can never happen again, and the ideals behind it must be purged.

And once everything was burnt away, put through the cleansing blue flames that removed all impurities, only the truth would remain.

And a Unova strong enough to bear it.

* * *

At first, his friends support him, tell him he's doing a good job as Champion, and he knows it's the truth. Things are efficient, clean and swift. Excess is shunned, the truth is made known to all, and everything is open. He is approachable, honest and unflinching, and has captivated his people. For once in a long time, Unova feels safe.

But, gradually, they begin to grow weak. They can no longer bear the truth, and plead for him to slow down. His friend's pleas fall upon deaf ears, as Reshiram is too busy whispering its truths to its hero for him to hear. But then, in a move he did not want to believe but knew was the truth, they ascend the endless steps into the League and challenge him.

Hilbert can only look on as so many faces stare back at him, and he can so easily read them, and their pain flows into him. Cheren says he has gone too far, that he has to be stopped. N steps forward, wondering when truth turned into apathy. Rosa raises a Pokéball, and tells him that balance exists for a reason. Professor Juniper asks how many statistics he sees, and when he will be satisfied. Alder can only regret his own blindness.

And then Bianca comes forward, pleading with him to stop, to let go of his mantle and return with them to Nuvema, that he isn't thinking straight and they can help. And he looks into her emerald pools, the ones that had managed to melt his heart when he was younger, ignite that passion within him, and he so coldly tells her the truth - which is certainly more merciful than whispering sweet lies into her ear, telling her what she wants to hear. Tears overcome her, and the battle begins. The flames embrace them too.

In his last act of sentimentality - as he had taken to calling that annoying, younger voice that would always so quietly object to him in the back of his mind - he allows them to leave. And so, once they are gone, things become more efficient. More clean. More swift. More _pure_.

* * *

Hilbert hates hypocrisy. Hypocrisy and self-delusion were the foundations of Team Plasma; stemming from the petty, shortsighted emotions and ideals that allowed Ghetsis to hold his venomous sway over legions of fools.

When the sage is dragged in before him, bony, with sunken eyes and a limp, half-insane and raving about everything that went wrong - how a mere child could deny what was rightfully his twice - the Champion passes his judgment with a dispassion that seems to give Ghetsis enough clarity to look up at him with a knowing smile and begin cackling before he descends into his madness again and is hauled away.

And Hilbert later looks into the many cameras with a wide, perfect smile while Reshiram looms behind him, and announces that Unova can finally rest; that their most turbulent chapter is behind them, and that they can finally move onto a new era. And he will be there to lead them into such, an unshakable pillar of pure, unblemished white to uphold the region as they march into a brave, new world. And he is met with thundering applause from the crowd, so eagerly absorbing his every word, his every lesson, and a small nod from the dragon of truth.

* * *

Time passes, but he is always there. A beacon of light to turn to, dispelling the darkness and lies. A cornerstone, unmoving, upon which all else is founded upon. A monument, relaying the past to the future. A hero, for future generations to emulate, to aspire to. His word is the truth, and everyone knows it.

And when time finally carved its final lesson upon him and he crumbled at last, Unova, blinking, didn't know what to think.


End file.
